


My Happiness Depends on You

by Piscaria



Category: Jolene (Song) - Dolly Parton
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Bisexuality, Crushes, Friendship, Jealousy, Misses Clause Challenge, Multi, Polyamory, Teenage Awkwardness, small town life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:23:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/pseuds/Piscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anne takes her boyfriend home for the holidays, the last person she is expecting to run into is her old best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Happiness Depends on You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mxingno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxingno/gifts).



> Thanks to Osito for all of your support and inspiration. Thanks to Elfwreck for the last-minute beta! 
> 
> Happy Holidays, [acrossthefloors](http://archiveofourown.org/users/acrossthefloors/)! Thank you for your the fantastic prompt and for your 101 Fictional Kinks post. It was a huge inspiration to me as I wrote this.

**2013**

The fog rolling in off the sea was so thick that Anne couldn’t see where the water began. Her hat and scarf were growing damp from it. Her cheeks burned from the sting of the cold. Further along the stretch of damp rocks and broken shells, a beach fire flickered, nothing more than a diffuse glow in the fog. If not for the warmth of Todd’s gloved hand in hers, she might have imagined she were part of this landscape, a sea stack wearing a mantle of mist, a gull winging blindly over the waves. Being back here, she felt suddenly fourteen again, sitting on the driftwood logs with a poetry book in her hands.

“Seeing this place is explaining so much about you,” Todd said, his voice light and teasing. It was the first time he’d spoken since they fled the house.

She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. Squeezing his hand, she said, “I’m sorry about my mom. I’ve never brought someone home for the holidays before, that’s all. I’m sorry if she was a little intense.”

“A little?” Todd laughed. “She told me your dream was to get married on the beach.”

“Oh, God,” Anne groaned. Letting go of Todd’s hand, she strode blindly towards the crash of the waves. “Let me just drown myself now.”

“Please don’t,” he called after her, following along more slowly. “It’s too cold to jump in after you.”

She kept going until, just ahead of her, a brown swell of sea foam washed up onto the rocks and receded. Covering her eyes with her hands, she peered out into the distance gray fog, wishing she could make out the sea stacks through it.

“Is it really your dream to get married on the beach?” Todd asked. His tone was joking, but when Anne risked a glance at him, his face was guarded. It was the same expression as when she’d given him the key to her apartment, the same as when they’d woken up together after that first night, when she’d rested her head on his chest, and he’d stroked her hair. He looked like he’d gotten caught out in the tide, water rising rapidly around him.

“No!” she protested, a little too sharply. She tugged at the fingertips of her blue gloves, pulling them out, away from her skin, and letting them snap back in again. “It’s silly,” she said. “When I was a little girl, my best friend had an amazing box of dress-up clothes. There was a wedding dress in it. That’s all. I can’t believe Mom even remembers it.”

“And who was the groom?” he asked, stepping forward to catch her hand. “Should I be jealous?”

Anne closed her eyes, remembering a bouquet of fireweed and black-eyed Susans, emerald green eyes beneath a veil of her mom’s lace tablecloth. “I was,” she said.

**1995**

Jolene leaned in close to her mirror, dabbing concealer over a burgeoning pimple on her chin, the sole imperfection on her creamy skin, blending it carefully with a fingertip. Solemnly, she opened a round box of loose powder. Her eyes drifted shut as she brushed it onto her cheeks and forehead. For a moment, she looked so perfectly serene that Anne, leaning against the wall, felt like she was witnessing a miracle. The Transformation of Jolene.

"I still think you should come," Jolene said, as tilted her head, double-checking the blending along the edges of her face. "It will be fun."

"There's no way my mom would let me go to a high school party," Anne said, a little regretfully.

"Well, you don't tell her," Jolene said. "Just say you're spending the night at my house."

Anne shook her head. At twelve, she couldn't explain it, even to herself, but Jolene was rushing head first into a world that Anne wasn't sure she wanted to enter at all. Parties and boys and romance sounded exciting when she read about them, but Anne wasn't sure she wanted to experience them in real life, any more than she wanted to carry a ring to Mordor. Jolene was her best friend, but there was a part of her Anne could never really understand. Looking at their two reflections in the mirror, they didn’t even seem the same age. In her jeans and pink sweater, with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, Anne looked like a little girl. Jolene could easily pass for sixteen.

Pulling an eyeliner pencil from her Caboodle, Jolene handed it to Anne. "Will you do it? You're always more careful than I am."

Jolene’s eyes fluttered shut as Anne cupped her face in one hand. Carefully, Anne traced the line of her lashes with the charcoal gray pencil, then smudged it slightly with a Q-tip.

“Open up,” she said, and green eyes glanced skyward as Anne did her waterline. “Can I do your eye shadow?” Anne asked, and Jolene nodded, let her sweep terra-cotta powder over her eyelids, with gold below her brow and a rich, metallic brown in the crease.

It felt, a little, like readying her for battle. Flawless make-up to shield her from the popular girls who’d hated Jolene since the day she moved to Hoquiam in fifth grade, prettier than any of them, and already wearing a c-cup, from the boys who gossiped about her in the locker room, from the adults who clucked that she was going down the wrong path. Anne blended it carefully with a rounded brush, then pulled away, admiring her handiwork.

“You’re beautiful,” she said.

When Jolene smiled, it was like a breath of springtime. “Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.

“What?”

Make-up temporarily abandoned, Jolene knelt to retrieve her purse, handing it to Anne. At her urging, Anne opened it. At first, she didn't see anything special. Jolene’s wallet. The handful of tampons she always carried, just in case. A pack of Juicy Fruit. The cigarettes Anne hated. The Mercedes Lackey book that Anne had lent her. A small, purple box. That was the only thing new, so Anne reached to take it out, but Jolene slapped my hand away, casting a scandalized glance towards her open bedroom door.

"Don't take them out!" she hissed. "Do you know how much trouble I'll be in if my dad sees them?"

"What are they?" Anne asked. She was twelve, then, and sheltered.

Jolene tossed her hair, dropping back into her chair. "Condoms, silly!" A smile flickered at the corners of her lips as she swept mascara over her lashes. "I'm going to do it with Justin tonight.”

Something tightened in Anne’s throat. All at once, for no reason at all, she remembered a pretend wedding on the beach, when they were younger, Jolene’s beautiful face obscured beneath a lace tablecloth. The brush of another girl’s lips, soft with cherry Chapstick. Anne leaned against the wall, watching Jolene paint her lips a red only a shade more vibrant than her hair, and her heart ached, though she couldn’t say why.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked finally, as Jolene kissed a square of tissue with a dramatic smack of her lips.

The tissue fluttered into the trash bin, the crimson print of Jolene’s lips as bright as fresh blood. “I’m ready,” Jolene said. She stood, twirling a little so Anne could take in the entire effect. Denim mini-skirt. Doc Martens. A black, lacey tank top beneath a flannel shirt. A choker dangling a golden ankh. “How do I look?”

“Older,” Anne said truthfully. “High school, at least.”

“Perfect!” Jolene said, beaming. She caught Anne’s hand, and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to come.”

Anne nodded, gripping her hand. “Just be careful,” she said.

Jolene grinned, tossing her hair. “That’s your job,” she said.

* * *

A scratching at her window woke Anne at 4:30 the next morning. Blearily, she climbed out of bed and pushed back the curtains to see Jolene standing in her backyard. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her lipstick was entirely gone. Her shirt was buttoned to the neck.

“Are you okay?” Anne asked, hurrying to open the window.

Jolene nodded, shakily climbing over the sill. “Can I stay here?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Anne said, climbing back into bed and lifting the edge of the covers.  
Jolene tugged her boots off, and slid in next to her. She smelled like cigarettes and beer and cheap cologne. She pressed her face into Anne’s neck, like a little girl, and tears dampened her skin. Anne closed her eyes, and hugged her fiercely, petting her hair.

**2013**

As Todd and Anne walked down the beach towards the diffuse glow of the fire, the scent of smoke began to thread through the briny smell of the sea. Gradually, they heard the crackling of flames. As they drew closer, they made out the outline of a woman through the fog, sitting on a driftwood log, her hands lifted towards the fire. A pale, brown dog sat at her feet. Anne glanced at the woman through the corner of her eye as they walked past, taking in long, red hair beneath a green wool cap. It was just a glimpse. But something about the way the woman held herself made Anne stop, looking back. Todd stepped forward, then froze, caught by her hand.

On the other side of the fire, the woman glanced up, then gasped, lifting a hand to her mouth. In the twelve years since Anne had seen her, some of the dewiness had faded from her skin, and tiny lines crinkled in the corners of her eyes. Jolene looked a little older, a little worn around the edges, just like Anne herself. But when she smiled, it was like a breath of springtime in the middle of December.

“Annie?” she cried, climbing nimbly to her feet. On the ground beside her, the dog lifted its head. “Annie Duncan?” She ran forward, opening her arms, and Anne hugged her tight. She smelled like wood smoke and whiskey.

"Annie Duncan," Jolene said again, her voice wondering. Pulling back, she held Anne at arm’s length, studying her. “You look good,” she said.

Anne ducked her head, stepping back. "What are you doing here?” she asked. “What happened to LA?”

Sadness flickered in Jolene’s eyes. “I got divorced a few years ago,” she said with an awkward shrug. “Things were kind of messy. I decided to move back here for a bit.” Forcing a smile, she said, “What about you? I thought you moved away and became a doctor."

"RN, actually," Anne said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We live in Renton now. I’m just visiting for the holidays.”

“And who is this?" Jolene asked, glancing at Todd. "Your husband?"

"Boyfriend," Todd corrected, stepping forward to take Jolene’s hand. He gave her the charming smile he always used to flirt with waitresses, and Anne’s heart sank.

* * *

The three of them ended up sharing the blanket, passing around the flask of Johnny Walker that Jolene pulled from her purse. Anne shifted on the driftwood log. It was cold and slightly damp beneath her ass, but her front was warm from the blanket and the heat of the fire. Jolene sat on one side, close enough that their thighs brushed when one of them shifted. On Anne’s other side, Todd was plastered against her on the other side, solid and strong. He reached to put his hand on Anne's knee, landed on Jolene's instead. Jolene giggled, but didn’t pull away, and even when he recognized the mistake, it took a second for him to draw back.

Leaning closer, Jolene rested her head on Anne’s shoulder. "You caught yourself a handsome man, Annie," she said, her voice gone soft from the whiskey and the fog. She wasn't looking at Anne at all, was staring into the flames of the fire. Flickering, they burnished her auburn hair to copper.

"I did," Anne said, and her voice sounded sharper than she intended. Maybe it was the whiskey that made her add, "I'll bet you didn't think I had it in me."

“Annie!” Jolene protested, reaching for her arm, sloppy drunk.

At the same time, Todd said, “Anne?”

She stood abruptly, dragging the blanket away from them. Todd and Jolene protested and she caught it, threw it back over her shoulder at them. "It's late," she said. "I'm going home."

"Honey, don't be like this," Todd said, rising to his feet as well.

Beside him, Jolene said, "I thought we were having fun."

"You two can keep having fun, if you want," Anne said, in a tone of voice that said, if he did, he would regret it. She did this sometimes. Fell into the martyring patterns her mom had always done. She always hated herself after the fact, but she could never quite bring herself to care enough to stop it, in the heat of the moment. She turned, stomping up the rocky beach to the top of the hill.

"Where's Todd?" her mom asked when Anne slammed into the kitchen by herself.

"Out," Anne said shortly. She saw her mom and her stepdad cast a worried look at each other, but she didn't pay them any attention. She went up to her childhood room. Her parents had stripped it around the time she turned twenty-five. They'd painted over the walls, where she'd written hundreds of verses of poetry in metallic Sharpie. Some of her books were still on the shelf, but otherwise, the room was cold. Impersonal. She might as well be staying in a hotel room. She ran her hand over the wall where Tennyson used to be, and rested her forehead against the blank wall, trying not to cry.

Fifteen minutes later, after she had changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, she heard the sound of the back door opening. In the hallway, Todd was speaking to her parents, their voices too low for her to follow. Relief spiked through her, and she closed her eyes, resting her head against the pillow. She didn't look up when he came in, but even so, she could feel the waves of anger emanating off him like a storm cloud

"What the hell was that?" he asked, taking off his parka and tossing it into the corner.

Anne shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “Look,” she said. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want anything permanent from this relationship—”

“Is this because I haven’t proposed?” he asked, his voice incredulous. “I thought we agreed to take things slow. We’re living together, isn’t that –“

“ _You_ decided!” Anne said, and her voice broke a little. She buried her face in the pillow, and Todd sat on the bed beside her, stroking her back.

“We both agreed we hated watching our parents get divorced as kids,” he said, the low edge of anger in his voice belying the gentleness of his hand against her back. “When I suggested we live together for awhile, try things out, you agreed it was for the best. If you thought otherwise, you sure as hell didn’t say anything!”

She snuffled into the pillow, but didn’t speak. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Did you really think I would sleep with your friend while we're staying here with your parents?" he asked, and this time, he sounded hurt.

"Ex-friend!” Anne snapped. His hand lifted from her back, but he didn’t speak. After a moment, she rolled over, scrubbing her face with the back of one hand. “No," she admitted. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t!” Todd snapped.

Anne sighed, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see the disappointment on his face. “She's pretty," she whispered.

"You're pretty," he countered, though the hard edge was still in his voice.

Anne's voice caught in her throat. "She's thin."

He ran a hand over her wide hip, squeezing gently. "I love your body. You know that. This isn't like you. I've never seen you this insecure."

"It's Jolene," Anne said. "She's always been . . ." she waved a hand, trying to figure out what she was saying. "She's always been the pretty one. I've always been the dumpy best friend. She could have any boy she wanted.” She sighed, playing with the edge of the quilt beneath her cheek. In a quieter voice, Anne said, “She chews people up and spits them back out. Be careful."

Todd squeezed her close. "Go to sleep," he said. "Things will be better in the morning."

But in his sleep that night, Todd groaned, shifting closer. He pressed a kiss to the tip of Anne’s shoulder, still mostly half asleep. “Damn,” he groaned, arching into her., dragging the hard line of his erection beneath his sleep pants against her hip. “Jolene.”

Anne pulled away from him, and he groaned in disappointment, hugging her pillow tight to his chest. Feeling numb, Anne dropped her feet over the side of the bed, felt for her slippers in the dark. By touch, she found her way to the kitchen, only then daring to turn on a light and make herself a cup of tea. Curling up on her parents’ couch, she listened to the quiet creaks the house made as it settled in for the night. The comforting scent of lemon and chamomile rose up from her tea mug, but when she imagined Todd and Jolene together, his gentle hands moving over her creamy skin, Anne felt too sick to drink it.

**1999**

The rules were only one to a dressing room, but Jolene opened the curtain and ducked inside the second the sales lady’s back was turned.

"Shit!" Anne gasped, clutching her sweater in front of her to cover the fat rolls. She always felt self-conscious about her weight around Jolene, who was skinny without even needing to try at it.

Giving her an unimpressed look, Jolene said, "Please, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Anne ducked her head, but didn't want to explain that her breasts weren't the problem. She reached for the dress Jolene had picked out and pulled it on over her jeans, as quickly as possible. Jolene rolled her eyes, but didn't comment as Anne wriggled the jeans off beneath the cover of the dress, neatly folding them and laying them on the bench.

Leaning back against the dressing room wall, Jolene gave her a once-over, then nodded her approval. "Hot!” she said. “I like it."

Anne critically studied herself in the mirror. The black lace looked good against her skin, and she liked the scoop collar, the way it flared out at her hips to graze her knees. But she ran her hands self consciously down her torso.

"You don't think it's too tight?

"No!" Jolene laughed. "I don’t know why you always wear clothes that you can swim in. This looks good on you."

Anne frowned, giving a little twirl so the skirt flared out. It felt strange to be wearing a dress, even in the changing room. She normally only wore jeans with t-shirts or turtlenecks. Jolene said Anne dressed like she was rehearsing to be a mom. The girl in the mirror didn't look like a mom, but she didn't look like Anne, either. She looked like she thought prettiness was in reach, if she just tried hard enough. She was an Anne trying to dress like a Jolene.

"I would kill for that cleavage,” Jolene said, waving a hand at Anne’s chest.

Anne blushed, turning around to wriggle back into her jeans. She forgot, sometimes, that her breasts were larger than Jolene’s. She supposed that was one benefit of being overweight.

"You should wear it to the party on Friday ," Jolene said. "Ben is going to be there."

"Shut up," Anne hissed, wriggling out of the dress with her back still to Jolene. Ben wasn't, exactly, her boyfriend, but he wasn't exactly not, either. He'd taken her to Homecoming, and they'd kissed once. The truth was, Anne wasn't exactly sure that she wanted a boyfriend, but she was getting old enough that it seemed like she _should_ have one. Ben was good boyfriend material, she thought. He was on the basketball team, but only JV, so he was in her league, she supposed. He had warm, brown eyes and sandy hair. He played saxophone in the school band.

"You should sleep with him," Jolene said, handing Anne her shirt. "He wants to."

The sales lady knocked on the wall outside their dressing room. "Are there two people in here?" she asked, sounding scandalized.

Jolene let out a lusty groan that made Anne's ears turn red. "Just a second," she gasped, voice going high and breathy. "We're . . . almost . . . done."

"Oh my God," Anne giggled, giving Jolene a shove. "Shut up!"

Jolene caught her wrist and pulled her down over the bench. Still giggling, she planted a wet, smacking kiss on Anne's cheek, just as the saleslady threw open the curtain.

“Girls!” the sales lady said, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jolene beamed at the sales lady. “Sure,” she said, holding up the dress . “We just need to buy this first.”

Anne didn’t bother to protest, too busy wiping her cheek. Her skin tingled from the kiss all afternoon, even after she washed the lipstick away.

* * *

The party had sounded fun when Jolene told her about it. But by the time Friday rolled around, Anne wasn't at all sure she wanted to go. She’d arranged to spend the night at Jolene’s house. She even let Jolene do her make-up. But a heavy feeling settled in her stomach as Jolene cupped her face and brushed her lipstick on, talking all the while about how Ben would love it. Anne felt like she’d swallowed lead. When Jolene set a timer on her camera and threw her arms around Anne, she had to force her smile.

“Relax!” Jolene said, reviewing the photo she’d just taken. “You look like you’re about to throw up. It’s just a party! It’s no big deal.”

“I don’t want to go,” Anne confessed.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Jolene said, setting the camera back on the dresser with exaggerated care. “We’ve been planning this all week.”

“Well, I changed my mind!” Anne said. “Can’t we just stay here?”

“And do what? Play Scrabble?” Jolene checked her reflection in the mirror one more time, then turned, snagging her denim jacket from her bedpost.

“I like Scrabble,” Anne said.

Jolene rolled her eyes. “ _I’m_ going,” she said. “If you don’t want to come, fine. You can stay here.” She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, giving Anne an expectant look.

Anne couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll stay.”

“Whatever,” Jolene huffed. “Don’t wait up.” She stomped out of the room, the heavy fall of her Doc Martens echoing down the stairs. Anne heard the front door slam. From Jolene’s window, she watched her climb into her old Chevy, and drive away.

Sighing, Anne dropped onto Jolene’s unmade bed. She hugged a pillow to her chest, staring out the window at the quiet street. Sunshine filtered through the oak leaves outside Jolene’s window, filling the bedroom with a pale, green light. It felt like being underwater, though, for once, rain didn’t streak the window glass. It was one of those rare Washington springs where the sun was bright enough it almost made up for the rest of the year’s rain. The beach would be beautiful now, the water clear enough that Anne could climb out onto a dock and watch the crabs scuttling on the floor below. 

The house was silent around her. Jolene’s dad worked swing shift. Anne’s car was still parked in the driveway. She thought about going home, but the last thing she wanted to deal with were her mom’s questions about why she’d gotten back early. She wished she weren’t such a baby.

Two hours later, she finally decided enough was enough. _You’re sixteen,_ she told herself, re-doing her make-up in Jolene’s mirror. _You can handle one party._

Cars lined the street when Anne pulled up to the address Jolene had given her, when they were planning earlier that week. She could hear the music pounding from the house from a block away.

She let herself in, squeezing through the mass of bodies dancing in the living room. She didn’t see Jolene there, or Ben. In the kitchen, a girl from her English class showed her where to get a beer, from one of the many ice chests lining the back wall. Anne cracked one open, but didn’t drink it. She peeked into the backyard, where a group of boys were passing around a joint. She was looking for red hair, the denim jacket Jolene had been wearing.

But she recognized Ben first. Cracking open one of the bedroom doors, she saw him, leaning back against a headboard, eyes closed and mouth open, his large hand curled around the back of a girl’s head as it bobbed over his lap. A squeak of surprise escaped Anne, and she stumbled backwards.

Ben’s eyes opened, locked on her. “Shit!” he gasped. “Anne?”

The girl in front of him pulled back suddenly, green eyes going wide and startled as she scrubbed her wet mouth with the back of a hand.

It was Jolene.

**2013**

Her parents' landline rang the next afternoon, as Anne and her mother rolled out cookie dough out on the kitchen counter, while Todd sat on a nearby stool, playing, "Silent Night" on his guitar. Anne's mom wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving floury streaks across the back of her thighs, and moved to answer it. Leaning the guitar against the counter, Todd stepped behind Anne, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body against her own. He reached around her to snag a piece of the dough, and she laughed, swatting at his hand

"Annie?" her mom called, as she stepped into the kitchen with the handset. "It's for you."

Todd popped the dough into his mouth as Anne frowned, reaching for the phone. She didn't know anybody who would call her on her parents' line. Her friends and coworkers all had her cell number.

"Hello?"

"Do you know, after all these years, I still have your number memorized?" Jolene said.

Anne stood abruptly, ignoring Todd's inquisitive face. "It's not my number any more," she pointed out, heading down the hall towards her old room.

"Do you still know mine?" Jolene asked, as if Anne hadn't spoken at all. “I’m staying at my dad’s old place. His number is still connected.”

"I forgot it," Anne lied. “It was a long time ago.”

Jolene laughed, the bitter edge of it impossible to miss. “I don’t think you’ve ever forgotten a fact in your life,” she said. A moment of silence. Anne closed the door to her room behind her. In a quieter voice, Jolene said, "From the way you took off last night, I'm guessing I'm the last person you want to talk to."

"Not the last," Anne hedged, and Jolene sighed.

"Are you still mad about what happened when we were in high school?"

"You know what I'm mad about," Anne said, dropping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, where her loopy, teenaged cursive had once spelled _I should have been a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across the floors of silent seas._

"Don't you be jealous of me," Jolene said. "The girls at school were always jealous of me."

"Well, I guess they had good reason, didn't they?" Anne said.

"Look," Jolene said, "Whatever you think was happening last night, I swear to God, it wasn't. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I just want to see you again. I've missed you, Annie."

"I'm not the one who left," Anne said.

"That's not fair!" Jolene cried. "You cut me out months before I left!"

"And you know why I did it!" Anne snapped. "Don't you dare pretend to be the victim here."

"I know that!" Jolene said. "I messed up. I'm sorry. You think I haven't beaten myself up over it enough over the years? Just, please, let me make it up to you. I just want to see you again."

Anne closed her eyes. "We're only in town for the holidays," she said. Her voice sounded dull and mechanical, even to her own ears. "Our schedules are pretty full."

"What about tomorrow night?" Jolene asked, sounding a little desperate now. "You know the Anchor? On First Street? My shift gets over at ten. Come, let me buy you a beer. You and your man. At least give me a chance to apologize in person."

"I don't know," Anne said. "That's kind of late."

Jolene gave an exasperated sigh. "Anne Marie Duncan," she said, "I know for a fact that you are only thirty years old. You will not turn into a pumpkin at midnight."

Despite herself, Anne laughed. She felt, suddenly, fifteen years old again, letting Jolene talk her into an adventure. "I'll think about it," she said.

"That's all I can ask," Jolene said, and hung up.

A few minutes later, Todd knocked cautiously on the door. "Is everything okay?" he asked, peeking inside. He took in the way Anne was curled up on the mattress, still holding the phone in her hand.

"Fine," Anne said.

“Who was it?” he asked, sitting beside her.

“Jolene,” she muttered, tracing the edge of the phone with her finger.

Todd hesitated, studying her face. Cautiously, he asked, "So, you and she, were you . . . ?"

Anne sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Todd knew she was bisexual. The longest relationship she'd been in, before him, had been with a woman, a girl from her nursing program.

"Not really," she said. "We were friends. We were close— I mean, we shared a bed at sleepovers, hugged each other a lot. But nothing ever really happened."

"But you wanted it to," Todd said. 

"Yeah," she admitted with a sigh. “It wasn’t a healthy friendship. When I was a girl, it was like my whole happiness depended on her. And that shouldn’t happen. You should never put your happiness on one person. It’s too easy for them to fuck it up.”

He stroked her hair. "Let's go out," he said, surprising her. "I think it would be good for you to end things with her on a better note. Besides, you haven't shown me the thrilling night life of Hoquiam yet."

"There _is_ no thrilling night life here," Anne protested.

He grinned. "No better time to start one."

**1999**

They didn’t speak for three months. Jolene tried to apologize, but Anne hung up on her when she called, and refused to speak to her at school. She ate her lunches alone. After school, she went straight home, or to the beach.

But that summer, Anne woke a few hours after midnight to a scratching at her window. At first, she thought it was the wind. The storms had come early to Hoquiam that year, and rain beat against the roof, pouring down the window panes. The wind moaned outside her window, and the very house rattled in its foundations. Anne blinked up at the ceiling, wondering if she’d only imagined the scratching. Then it came again. She groaned, pulling her pillow over her head. _No,_ she told herself. _It’s not happening._

Above the wind, she heard Jolene cry, “Annie!” It was the desperation in her voice that made Anne stumble out of bed, struggling to open the window in the wind. Jolene climbed inside, dripping water onto Anne’s carpet. Her hair streamed limply around her face, and her smeared eye make-up made her look like a raccoon.

“What are you doing here?” Anne asked, throwing a towel at her.

Jolene wiped her face and said, sniffling, "I'm leaving."

“Whatever,” Anne said, sitting on the edge of her bed. Jolene had been talking about leaving for years.

"No," Jolene said, her voice breaking on the word. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she was smiling. She jerked a chin to the window behind her.

"I met these guys ," she said. "They're heading to LA. One of them is a photographer. He thinks he can get me work as a model."

"Jolene—" Anne started.

"I packed my bag already," Jolene said, ignoring her. "It's in the car," she said. "I just wanted to say goodbye to you."

Anne shook her head. It was late, and this didn’t make any sense. "But what about school?" she asked.

"They have schools in LA," Jolene said. "Maybe I can finish my GED. I just . . ." she shook her head. “I can’t stay here, Annie.”

“Why are you even telling me this?” Anne asked. Her voice sounded thick. She wiped surreptitiously at her eyes, unable to look at Jolene.

“Because you’re my best friend!” Jolene cried. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up. I am! But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you.”

She opened her arms, looking, for the first time, uncertain, like she expected Anne to push her away. Shaking her head, Anne tugged her in, close. Jolene’s sodden jacket soaked through her night shirt. She pressed her wet cheek to Anne’s and whispered, “I’m going to miss you so much!”

“Don’t leave,” Anne said, pulling back. “We can work things out. It’s not —”

But Jolene was shaking her head. “You know how much I hate this town. I was always going to leave sooner or later. It just turned out to be sooner.”

“Are you sure you want to?” Anne asked, grabbing her wrist. “I mean, do you even know these guys? Can you trust them?”

Jolene shrugged, looking back over her shoulder. Car lights shone in the street outside. “I’m ready to go,” she said, and pulled away.

**2013**

The Anchor had an honest-to-God sawdust floor and a tiny stage below an enormous wooden ship’s wheel suspended from the ceiling. On stage, a cover band was singing a Dolly Parton song, while a few couples danced on the floor. Anne blinked as her eyes adjusted to the low light, finally catching sight of Jolene’s auburn hair behind the bar. When she turned and saw Anne hovering just inside the doorway, a smile brightened her face.

She beckoned them over, leaning over the counter to ask, “What’ll it be?”

The beer list written up on the chalkboard in Jolene’s loopy handwriting was less-than-inspiring, but they had a few microbrews, at least. Todd ordered them each a Kilt Lifter, and Jolene refused to take his card when he pulled out his wallet.

“It’s on the house,” she said, still beaming. “You two grab a seat. Maybe dance a few rounds. I get off at ten.”

Todd and Anne took a table close to the dance floor, where they could watch the band. The woman on the stage was older than Anne’s mother, but she had a smile like Jolene’s that made her seem younger than she really was. Dark hair fell around her face as she crooned, “I will always love you,” into the microphone. Anne was glad she’d decided not to go with the Dolly Parton wig and sequined dress. Jeans and flannel seemed more appropriate for a dive bar in Hoquiam.

“This place is great,” Todd said, and Anne nodded, sipping her beer.

“I don’t remember it,” she said. “But then, when I lived here, I wasn’t exactly old enough to hit the bars.”

Sipping his own beer, Todd glanced over his shoulder at Jolene, who was shamelessly flirting with a couple of ex-logger types as they ordered their drinks.

“You know,” he said, “she’s really pretty. If you wanted to do something with her, I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t!” Anne interrupted, lifting her glass in warning hard enough that a wave of dark ale splashed over the rim. “Don't do that.”

"What?" Todd asked.

Anne waved a hand. "That guy thing, where you think it doesn't really count as cheating if I sleep with a woman because she doesn't have a dick. It counts, Todd. Lesbian sex is real sex."

"I'm not saying it isn’t," Todd said, hands up. "But would it count as cheating if I was okay with it?”

Anne could only stare at him. “Why on earth would you be okay with that?”

“I want you to be happy, Anne. That's all."

"I'm happy with you," Anne protested.

“Sure,” Todd said, leaning across the table. His eyes were earnest when he said, “But you want her, too.”

“It’s a moot point,” Anne said, taking a long sip of her beer. “She’s not interested.”

“But if she were?” Todd asked.

“Drop it,” Anne said.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be opposed to a threesome.”

Anne rolled her eyes, and dragged him out onto the dance floor. They were both terrible dancers, all awkward limbs and self-conscious smiles. Even Todd’s innate sense of rhythm wasn’t enough to make up for his utter lack of coordination. He twirled her around, and she laughed, barely managing not to smack the poor guy next to them in the face. When he hauled her in, giggling, Jolene was standing behind him. The expression on her face made Anne’s breath catch in her throat.

Tapping Todd on the shoulder, Jolene asked, “Can I dance with your girl, here?”

“Sure,” he said, giving Anne an encouraging smile before heading back to the bar to order another beer.

Anne’s heart fluttered in her chest as Jolene stepped close, taking her hand. She settled her hand on Jolene’s narrow hip.

“You two seem happy together,” Jolene said, as they started dancing. They’d swayed together this way at every middle school dance, but it felt different now, with so many years between them. Awkward. “Are you happy, Annie?”

Anne shrugged, glancing back at Todd, who was sitting alone at their table, watching the game playing on mute in the corner. “Are you?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” Jolene said with a smile. “I’m really glad you came.”

“Todd talked me into it,” Anne admitted.

“Then I should buy that man another drink,” Jolene said.

“Or you could take him into the bathroom for a blow job,” Anne suggested, hating the bitterness in her voice, but unable to stop it.

Jolene’s face fell. “How many times have I tried to apologize for that?” she asked. “For God’s sake, Annie! You weren’t even dating the boy!”

“I never had a chance to,” Anne said. She tried to pull away, but Jolene’s hand tightened around hers, holding her in place with surprising strength.

“Please,” Jolene said. “Don’t keep pretending this is about Ben Sandbeck. That boy sniffed around you for three months, and the most you ever did was kiss him. You didn’t want him, whatever you convinced yourself afterwards.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted _you_ to have him!” Anne said. “And that thing with Todd on the beach the other night! What the hell was that?”

“You tell me,” Jolene said. “Because I honestly can’t figure out what you got upset about!”

“I’m upset about you thinking you can just waltz back into my life and take whatever you want!” Anne yelled, not caring that she was drawing glances from the neighboring couples as they danced. “I know that you’re beautiful! I can’t compete with you, and I get that! But Todd and I love each other, and I’m not going to let you –”

“I don’t _want_ your man!” Jolene yelled back. “Jesus Christ, Annie! I didn’t even want Ben Sandbeck that night. I was just bored, and lonely, and pissed at you! And I spent months trying to apologize for it! Are you really still angry some second-rate jock that you probably haven’t even thought of since high school?”

“No!” Anne said, and her voice broke. “I was angry that you left!”

She pulled away, crying, and this time, Jolene let her go. Todd rose to her feet as Anne passed his table, but she lifted her hand to hold him off. In the bathroom, she tore a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, dabbing at her eyes. The door opened behind her, and Jolene stepped inside. She lay a hand on Anne’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

“You didn't know what it would do to me, spending that last year here by myself," Anne said, sniffling. “We would have made up eventually. But you left, and I was alone.” She dabbed at her eyes. In a smaller voice, Anne asked, “Did I ever even cross your mind?"

"All the time," Jolene said. "Constantly."

Anne dampened a paper towel in the faucet and scrubbed at her smeared eye make-up. “I’m so pathetic,” she muttered. “I’ve got a good job. I have a wonderful boyfriend. But you come back into my life for five minutes, and all of a sudden, I feel fifteen and awkward as hell again.”

“If you’re pathetic, I’m worse,” Jolene said, leaning against the mirror. “All of that crazy shit I did as a girl, and you know the one thing I regretted?”

Anne shook her head, crumpling the paper towel and throwing it into the garbage.

“Never doing this,” Jolene said, leaning in to kiss her.

For a moment, Anne was eight again, watching a white-veiled girl make her way across the slippery rocks towards her, trailing hem stained green from sea-salt and algae. She was twelve, clinging to Jolene as she wept quietly into her neck, as though the strength of her love could batten down the hatches of their girlhood, keeping the storms of adulthood at bay. She was sixteen, standing frozen in the doorway as Jolene lift her face from Ben’s crotch, so jealous that she thought she would puke. She was thirty, and this kiss wasn’t innocent, didn’t taste like Chapstick or saltwater, but of whiskey and cigarettes. It was heat and desperation, and the slick press of tongues. They pulled apart, gasping, resting their foreheads together. Anne’s fingers were tangled in Jolene’s thick hair.

“Come home with me,” Jolene gasped. “Both of you, even. I know your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”

Anne closed her eyes, laughing through the tears spilling down from her eyes. “Okay,” she said.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> There really is a Hoquiam, Washington, but if it has a bar called The Anchor, it is probably nothing like I described here.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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